"Aha! I can still clearly recall my initial moments in that world."
I was a well-known German writer with a large following.
I began penning it at the age of fifteen. I had to leave my abusive parents behind to pursue my writing career because of their behavior.
My book "Mystery Man" became well-known in just one month.
I found it all amusing at first, but as it became well-known, millions of copies were sold—even outside of Germany. It provided me with the funds I required to continue my education. I keep writing it because I've always wanted to get paid.
I hid my face out of concern for what people would think of me if they discovered that their favorite author was a seventeen-year-old teenager.
It was risky for me to hide from people's eyes because I was already fairly well-known, but I did it.
I paid for my college education. My only goal in college was to finish my book and leave Germany, but when my roommate "Mark" learned about my writing, he realized right away that I was the top-selling author in all of Germany.
Even though they didn't know I was the author, my college students were huge fans of the work I produced.
It was Mark, who was one of my biggest fans, who became aware of it.
He informed everyone that I was outside at the time, and when I returned, I noticed the media was outside my room. I quickly hid, and I overheard what Mark was telling people about it.
"I can't believe my roommate is the biggest star," said Mark while giving an interview to the media.
One reporter turned around and saw me all of a sudden.
"Hey!" "He's right there," he exclaimed.
I recall that to escape them, I ran as quickly as I could.
I wasn't looking for fame at the time. I began writing to help pay for my college expenses, but I had no idea that my silly book would garner so much attention from readers.
******
A bright light struck me, and that's the last thing I remember.
Unintentionally, I crossed the street without looking at the green light, and the truck struck me.
*****
"Ha! Where am I?
"What the f*ck is going on!" As I approach the window to look outside, I remark.
I see children playing cricket.
"But wait, I'm at the orphanage that was in the book."
I turned to face the bathroom mirror at that moment.
"In my novel, I reincarnated as a villain."
That is very awful! What actions did I take to earn this?
In my book Mystery Man, I told the tale of a woman who tries to apprehend a mafia boss from below. He is the book's antagonist; he tries to incite conflicts between nations, but the main character stops him.
The worst part of all is that I am unsure of the conclusion because I neglected to write the final chapter.
I wake up late, so I sigh as I wait for some nun to come into my room and shout at me, while I sit on the bed.